


And so it begins

by fairyprincelouis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2 - Lucius/Severus, 3 - Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe, Angst, Colin - Freeform, Drabble, Drabbles, F/M, Gen, Implied Cheating, M/M, Mentions of canon deaths, One-Shots, Peeves - Freeform, Tonks - Freeform, Walburga's POV, a collection of random works, but it's more like Snape is implied, character analysis story, fred - Freeform, not angst, stuff that can't quite stand on its own, such as Bellatrix, warning: sexual content implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyprincelouis/pseuds/fairyprincelouis
Summary: Princes, like her father, don't fall in love with commoners, like her mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, so I wrote this a few days ago and it's not my best as I've rushed this quite a bit while dealing with some heavy crap in real life, but I like the simplicity of it.  
> Also, this was part of a competition, so I got these lovely prompts and Poker Face - Lady Gaga was one, and an introspective fic was written! XD  
> Also, if you've seen it on ff.net, it's because I'm therottenjas over there too.

It's the small pitter-patter of their feet running through the corridors, giggles and hushed whispers flowing like the wind, that pull Peeve's attention away from the locked classroom where he's been lazing around.

He knows why they're here—how could he not?

Peeves lives for these moments.

Taking a deep breath of air, puffing his chest to the maximum, he flies through the door and pulls the scariest face he can. "Rotten little children!" he screams much to the delight of the first years who scream then laugh as they run away.

Their laughter warms up the corridor and Peeves soaks it up. He'll never get tired of providing this form of entertainment. It's his form of communication; his way of being remembered and remembering others.

Because he's been here since the beginning and he'll be here until the end; unlike those names which covered the memorial and the names which would never be honored.

* * *

_Colin Creevy_

The boy was smaller than the rest of his fellow students, but his loud gasps and exclamations more than made up for his size. The camera around his neck—which the Gryffindor held so tight that Peeves thought it might shatter by the force of his grip—seemed to be very important to the boy, so he categorized that in his mind and let his eyes drift off to other new students.

He was sure he'd see the boy again.

It was a week later when the boy appeared with four other boys; their steps pounded against the floor along with the loud confirmations of their bravery.

Those words were hardly true when he made his famed appearance, but Peeves was sure they'd grow into their courage soon.

But Colin, curious, curious Colin, stood frozen in a mixture of awe and shock, finger trembling on the shutter.

All it took was a simple, "Boo" to have the lad turning tail and yelling about how his little brother wouldn't believe a single thing.

_Nymphadora Tonks_

She was one of his favorite students.

She wasn't like anybody else. She was a whirlwind of colors and emotions from her bubblegum pink hair down to her bright blue sneakers.

The first time she appeared through his famed corridor she changed her hair color instantly.

Her hair shifted to his near-white translucent color and she grinned; all teeth and dimples.

"Never had this color before. I wear it better than you do."

And, truth be told, she did.

_Fred Weasley_

He'd known about the two twin boys before the boys had known about him.

Stories—horror filled and sweet—were told by fonding older brothers who seemed interested in the trouble these boys would find in Hogwarts.

Peeves promised Charlie he wouldn't go soft on the boys should they ever turn up in his corridor; he told Percy he was the only one allowed to stir up trouble, much less hand his title to two brats.

Of course, he'd been wrong.

The boys were absolutely delightful menaces when they met him.

They cooked up some weird strategy of running down from opposite ends of the corridor. George had forgone his shoes in an effort to erase his presence.

"You're not that scary," Fred had exclaimed when Peeves screamed only in his face. George, on the other hand, laughed and had his ears covered. He probably hadn't expected Peeves to be so loud.

"Like a small teddy bear," George added, wrinkling his nose.

"A loud teddy bear."

Peeves knew they mischief they'd cause in Hogwarts would be a sight to watch.

They'd been so unafraid and cheeky since the start, and they never lost their wit even when they grew up.

And Fred never lost that cheek even in his final moments.

_Bellatrix Lestrange_

Children change as they grow.

It's a fact.

Usually, it's for the better, but other times, it's the complete opposite.

Bellatrix had been a bad seed that had sprouted into a deadly flower.

The students who walked in his corridor came of their own free will or had simply stumbled upon it.

She was different.

Peeves never felt bad scaring first years, but there was something unsettling about scaring muggle-borns who hadn't known about him and were guided by a mean witch.

The way she laughed when the other girl ran away in tears was particularly chilling to hear.

And the way she came back with different students sent shivers down his spine.

* * *

Human life is so laughably comparable to the rook in chess—or at least the version he'd seen long ago by the name of Chaturanga.

How, like a chariot, the rook moves so quickly across the board and takes the places of other chess pieces.

Much like the way human years pass by so fast and when one dies, another life quickly replaces them.

Sometimes the years blur in his mind, but the lives he's met will never be forgotten.

Peeves heaves a heavy sigh as he makes his way over to the loud noise of students moving between passing period.

They too will soon die, leaving behind only distant memories inside his head.

But Peeves chooses not to dwell on that too much and he focuses on the present.

He doesn't want another awkward conversation when people don't see his usual grin. Sometimes those expressions are the only thing he remembers about the long dead friend; not the crinkly smile he saw so many times on Remus' face.

So that's why Peeves hurls stink bombs towards the students who scream and laugh as they run away.

He wants to remember those smiles and laughs.


	2. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius is a good actor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied Sexual Content  
> So this is just a small drabble written for a Pairing the Character competition over at ff.net. :D  
> Of course, I love angst, so I decided to write it here. XD

Cold hands squeeze his hips in a rough manner; Lucius feels the phantom bruises he'll be sure to have in the morning. But he just closes his eyes and tightens his own grip on the bedposts for now.

And when one of those hands remove themselves from his hip and pull on his long hair, he loses himself to the pleasure curling in his abdomen and allows himself to forget.

It's not often that he gets to feel this way.

The soft press of lips against his neck, murmuring their affections, feels nice. Lucius isn't daft; he knows none of the words are for him. But in the cold and dark hours of the night, he can pretend.

He can pretend those love declarations are for him instead of some dead witch.

He can pretend his hair is red instead of blond.

He can pretend his eyes are that clear, evergreen color that ignites a summer joy nostalgia instead of the dull grey they've always been.

Lucius is a good actor and he immerses himself fully into his role.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also have a [tumblr](https://space-ranger-soulmates.tumblr.com/) where you can shoot characters/prompts/pairings @ me and get these sorts of drabbles (or more if I feel inspired). It's mainly to improve my writing. Thanks so much for reading this! :D


	3. tempt me not (pink lips and blue eyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princes, like her father, don't fall in love with commoners, like her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, this was written for QL Final! Can y'all believe my lovely Harpies team made it to the final? Wicked. (It's more like semi-finals, but semantics.) Had a prompt of writing someone's first trip to Knockturn Alley. Hope you enjoy!

 

The young girl sits in the armchair, her feet tucked safely underneath a fleece blanket, idly licking a Blood Pop lollipop as she watches a movie on the television.

Walburga wrinkles her nose at the dramatics of the actors on the screen. The starring witch in the movie is far too hideous to have attracted the fancy of her handsome co-star. Is she supposed to believe that love is strong enough to turn a blind eye to ugliness?

She doesn’t find the love story to be believable at all.

The black haired witch on screen bawls as she notices her love interest dancing with someone else at a ball. At this particular scene, Walburga smirks when the young witch runs away from the party.

Honestly, the silly witch should’ve known princes don’t fall in love with commoners.

Especially not ones with such a large waist either.

“Wally, dear,” her father’s voice interrupts, pausing the movie with a flick of his wand. She refrains from sighing and turns to look in his direction. Her father is the image of ease, all smiles and relaxed posture, while her mother grips her upper arms with must be the tightest grip known to man. Her mother’s hair is a mess and she has deep bruises underneath her eyes showing her obvious lack of sleep. “Would you set your mother’s worries at ease?”

Her mother scoffs, lips curling in a nasty way. “Or she could confirm my suspicions.” Her gray eyes bore into Walburga’s with an intensity she’s never seen on her mother’s face. Her father makes a disapproving noise and frowns. “Well, she could, Pollux!”

“Your hysterics aren’t amusing anymore. Wally, tell your mother where we were this afternoon,” her father says, laying a sympathetic hand on Irma. Walburga glances between the pained expression on her mother’s face and the smile on her father’s.  

“Father took me to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies for Hogwarts.” She taps her chin then laughs; she waves her lollipop around in the air. “Then he bought me some sweets and we came home.”

Her mother deflates at her words. The fight leaves her eyes and her shoulders hunch over themselves. “Of course, of course,” she mutters repeatedly, more to herself than to them. After a moment, a small smile crosses her face and she presses a light kiss on Pollux’s cheek. “I’ll be retiring for the night, love.”

Walburga hums and stares pointedly at her father to turn on her movie.

“You’re a good girl, Wally.” Her father walks over and rests a hand on the back of her neck; his grip tight. Walburga lowers her head. “Stay that way.”

“Of course, father,” she responds, voice flat. “A Pureblood woman must be obedient at all times especially when it comes to the matters of the Manor.” Walburga bites her cheek but she can’t help but blurt out, “Especially when lying.”

* * *

 

“I expect you to act on your best behavior,” Pollux warns Walburga as they make their way down Diagon Alley. Walburga nods curtly, doing her best to weave through the crowd in the shadow of her father. “Remember your Pureblood etiquette lessons and, for Merlin’s sake, I expect you to adhere to every single one of them.”

Walburga nods again, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She practically has that book memorized with how much she’s forced to read it. “Of course, father,” she quips back when he gives her a side-eye.

She can see the outline of the entrance to Knockturn Alley and her stomach churns with excitement. She’ll be the first one out of her friends in Hogwarts to venture inside, save for the boys. Of course, they’ve all told stories about the place. It’s supposed to be dark and scary if the boys’ stories are to be believed.

What she actually sees is disappointing.

The shops look terribly dull and faded. There are only a few that catch her interest and it’s because of the product they’re selling. This is nothing like the atmosphere from Diagon Alley, even the people scurrying around are boring.

Sure, there are people wrapped so tightly in their oversized cloaks that she can barely catch a flash of their face before they’re gone, but that’s not a new sight. Sometimes she catches strange looking men in her father’s study in the late hours of the night when she should be asleep. In fact, there are hardly any people casually roaming the streets. Most people seem to be in a hurry, trying to get in and out as quickly as they can.

That’s not the case with her father.

Walburga puffs out her own chest and takes long, elegant strides when she sees the way he’s holding himself; proud and tall.  _ This  _ is her father, not like those cowards too afraid to show their face.

She almost doesn’t mind the nasty glare thrown her way when she pushes past an old batty witch. It’s around then that her father comes to a halt in front of a shop called  _ Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos _ , nestled between a pub and an undertakers shop.

The outside of the tattoo parlor looks like every other shop in Knockturn Alley; it has brick walls with small windows and the shop’s name on a sign. When they enter the shop, Walburga has to bite her lip from gasping out loud. The art covering the walls are intricate, beautiful, and an explosion of color.

“Welcome.” Walburga brings her gaze to the man behind the counter. The man can’t be older than her father. He’s got long black hair with tan skin that’s littered with tattoos, and he’s also wearing muggle clothing. She scrunches her nose but says nothing as she watches the casual exchange of words between her father and the man known as Daniel.

Daniel’s brown eyes meet her blue ones and he winks. “I have your room waiting if you’ll follow me,” he says to her father, standing from his seat behind the counter and walking toward the only hallway. He opens the second door on the right and pushes it open with a smile. “Here we go.”

There’s a woman waiting inside the room. She’s got beautiful blond curls framing her face, making her sky blue eyes pop. A light, pink gloss coats her lips and her cheeks are rosy. Her blue dress compliments her eyes.

She looks like she could be an actress on the romance movies Walburga watches a lot.

“Pollux,” the woman purrs, rising from the chair she was sitting in to envelop her father in a hug. Walburga takes a step back when her father and this strange woman embrace each other like they’ll never see each other again. “I’ve missed you, darling. I love you so much it hurts.”

Walburga takes another step back when her father—using a gentle voice she’s never heard before—whispers, “I love you, too.”

“Now, where are you going, little lady?” Daniel asks, grabbing her shoulders and stopping her in place. “If you leave now, you get nothing.” Her father and the woman seem to remember there are other people in the room because they finally let each other go. Still, her father keeps his arm around the woman’s small, small waist. “That’ll be a pity since your father spent so much money on sweets already.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, voice wary and calculated.

Her father sighs, waving a hand signal to Daniel. “Follow him and I’ll explain afterward. I’ve got business to attend to.”

Walburga stays put, eyes locked on the way the woman has laid her head on her father’s shoulders.

“Listen to your father and run along,” the woman drawls, raising an eyebrow.

“I know what this is,” Walburga states, crossing her arms. She's seen too many movies not to know. “This is an affair, isn’t it? I’ll tell mother!”

“Now that was an awfully big threat,” her father comments, letting the woman go so he can grip the back of Walburga’s neck hard. “You know what happens to bad elves,” he warns, voice cold and detached but with an underlying tone that screams of danger. “Do you need to be punished like that as well?”

Walburga flinches and shakes her head. “No, father.”

“Then do as I say.”

She jumps when her father lets her go and pushes her toward the other man. Daniel leads her out of the room and closes the door behind them. He then brings her to the first door where Walburga can see a pile of sweets on the table with a television playing another romance movie.

“Your father shares a lot of history with her,” Daniel says, after informing Walburga where the restroom was. “There are things you’ll come to understand when you’re older and this is one of them.”

With that said, he leaves.

She doesn’t see anyone else until two hours later when her father comes back to take her home. She’s gone through half of the sweets and two movies. Walburga looks around the parlor when they leave to see if she can catch a glimpse of that woman again.

The only trace left of the woman is the smudge of pink gloss on her father’s collar.

* * *

 

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Walburga answers, flushing a bit at her recklessness.

Her father lets go and pats her head. “Don’t stay up too late. I’m off to my study so Kreacher will watch over you.”

The movie flickers alive and Walburga settles back into her seat with a sigh. The black haired witch on the screen runs through the streets. It’s too comical not to laugh out loud. The running only makes the actress' waist look bigger; sort of like her mother’s figure.

Walburga thanks Salazar that her waist is small and that her eyes are blue.

  
  
  



End file.
